


oleander

by queenundisputed



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, mild fantastical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenundisputed/pseuds/queenundisputed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma asks, and Killian, love help him, cannot say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oleander

"Do it," she commands, looking at him with her fists clenched at her sides.

She doesn't look at the boy standing in the corner that wears his confusion like armor and refuses to bat at eyelash at his mother's erratic behavior. He's known something was up from the moment they came to Storybrooke. He's a clever lad.

She also doesn't look at the couple standing right behind her. The woman cradles her stomach, heavy with child, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. He can almost hear the 'no' on her lips, but he knows she won't say it yet. The man who stands steadfast beside her keeps his lips pressed firmly together. Their eyes meet, and Killian doesn't know if the nod David gives him is one of approval or simply acceptance. Permission, perhaps.

But Emma...Emma only has eyes for him in this moment, and he would love to simply stop and revel in it. He craves her undivided attention, and he certainly has it now. But it isn't the time, damn it. It isn't the time, and that's his fault.

"I do not think that wise, Swan," he says, quietly, but his voice carries in the room; his words inflated by the silence.

"I don't really care what you want, pirate," she says, and he knows, really, that her anger isn't truly for him but for the witch who has put them in this situation; still, he can't seem to tamp down the answering anger that rises in his chest.

"You would ask this of me then? You would ask me to unmake you?" He would have liked to scream it at her, to let go of some of the rage that boils in his chest, but it won't come. He whispers it out instead, sounding as broken as he feels.

She takes a deep breath, and she steps forward, her lips quirking up into a mockery of a smile.

"What? Don't think you can handle it?"

It's like a punch to the gut that leaves him gasping, and his mouth drops open. "No, Swan. Please, no."

He is too far gone to feel the shame that should come with being this broken in front of all these people, but it isn't as if they don't already know. And if it must be a public spectacle then so be it. Perhaps it will afford him allies, if nothing else.

"Emma, maybe Killian's right. Maybe this isn't the best way to do this," Snow suggests.

"This is the _only_ way to do this. I won't let that witch harm the people I love," Emma says, allowing Killian a reprieve from the intensity of her gaze as she turns to face her mother.

"And letting her take your magic will stop her from hurting us? Or Henry? Or you?" Snow continues: "This isn't the way, Emma."

"Then what other way is there?" Emma asks, and he hears the break in her voice, the waver that belies uncertainty.

"I don't know, but we'll find it, Emma. I promise," David chimes in, and Killian could kiss them both--Snow White and David--for talking their daughter down when he could not.

Emma shakes her head, but she throws her hands out in surrender. "Fine," she says, quietly. "We'll find another way."

She looks over at her son as if she's just realized he's still in the room. "Henry..." she says, trailing off.

Henry shakes his head. "I don't know what's going on here, mom, but you should have told me about it."

"Henry, I didn't want to--"

"I don't care. You've been lying to me," the boy rushes to the door suddenly, pulling it open. "I can't talk to you right now."

And then he's out the door, slamming it behind him.

Emma doesn't say anything, and the room is so quiet that Killian thinks he can hear her heart beating slow, slower, and perhaps, for a second, stopping completely in the wake of Henry's departure.

"We'll go after him," David says, and he gives Killian a look as he leaves that Killian does not know how to decipher. Snow hugs her unmoving daughter for a moment, whispering what he assumes are comforting words, and then she too is gone.

"This is what she wanted," Emma says softly as she turns back to face him.

He takes a step back because her face is set, and he can tell she has mustered her resolve. Her parents' words have done nothing to dissuade her at all. He is a fool to have believed she would give up that easy. Emma Swan, he knows, does not simply _give up_.

"Emma, I can't," he pleads with her, hoping that she will take pity on him this once. He has nothing to protect himself from her. If she asks it of him, he will do it even if it kills him. "Please don't ask me to do this."

"Killian, I need you," she says, and he can tell by the way she winces when she says it that she knows what those words will do to him, knows that she is manipulating his love for her in the worst way possible. "Do this for me. Please."

There's a broken noise that works its way out of his mouth, and he walks to her, takes her in his arms. He touches his forehead to hers. "I will do anything-- _anything_ \--you ask of me, Swan. I will even do this. But, mark my words, love, there may not be much of either one of us left when this is over."

"I know," she says, but he is sure that she doesn't. "Do it."

He lets out a shaky breath, kisses her forehead as he pulls away, and then he kisses her mouth. He can feel the tingle and pull of the curse as it works its way between them. It feels like all the air has been pulled from the room, and he can't breathe except for her. He pulls back because he knows that his work is done and can’t cope with how something as beautiful as her kissing him has been made so ugly; he watches, helpless, as she falls to her knees, her hands clawing at her throat as she chokes on the magic that tears its way up her throat. What falls out of her mouth, though, isn't the bright, shimmering smoke of magic but flowers. They are pink and white as though they are meant to remind him of frothy blood as she vomits them up. Another beautiful thing made ugly.

He touches his lips and wonders how it would feel to burn that flesh away as penance for what he's done.

The flowers stop suddenly, and she looks up at him with teary eyes. Her body shakes and her arms, holding her up, suddenly give out as though the strength of them has been sapped away. He goes to her, kneels on the floor, and gathers her in his arms.

"I am so sorry, love," he says, quietly.

"I'm cold," she says in response, and he holds her tighter, pulling his coat around in a vain attempt to cover her. He can feel her erratic heartbeat where his arm crosses her chest, and he worries that it will beat so fast that it stops. But then it slows down almost as if he had commanded it to do so, and he breathes a sigh of relief that does not last because the flowers start again.

He thought it would all happen at once, but he is still holding her shaking body in his arms when Snow and David return from their quest to find Henry.

"Oh," Snow says, and she rushes to her daughter's side, takes Emma from his arms and into her own. Killian stands, stumbles backwards, his boots crushing the flowers on the floor. They smell so sweet, and he would expect nothing less of Emma Swan.

David keeps him from falling to the floor.

"She asked me..." he begins, knowing that he owes David an explanation for his daughter. Knowing that no one in this room will ever forgive him for this, but that he has to try and make them anyway.

"I know, mate, I know," David says, and strangely, there is no accusation in his tone. Killian shudders, moves away from him.

"You should hate me for this. I hate me for this," he says.

"I can, if you like, but I don't think it will do either of us any good," David says. "We need to focus on her right now, saving her. Do you think you can do that?"

"Aye," Killian says, but he isn't sure, not really. All he has done so far is make himself into the agent of Emma Swan’s demise. Perhaps there is nothing left in him that is capable of saving anyone.

But David doesn't know this, and he takes the confirmation as truth. He turns away from Killian, bends down, and he goes to touch one of the flowers crushed by Killian's boot.

"Stop! Don't touch them," Snow White says, throwing out a hand toward her husband.

"Why?" David asks, his hand frozen just above the white flower petals scattered on the floor.

"I'm pretty sure they're poisonous," Snow says.

"You would know," Emma says, her voice scratchy and low, but she manages a little laugh as she says it. Snow holds her closer, and the shaking seems to abate just a bit. Killian hates that he is selfish enough to wish it were his arms that brought her comfort instead.

"Where's Henry?" Emma asks, making use of the momentary lack of flower vomiting.

"He's safe. He's with Regina," Snow says, softly, pushing Emma's hair away from her face.

"Come on," David says, "let's get you to bed so you're comfortable at least."

Emma looks so small in her father's arms as David carries her to bed, and Killian watches her go with wide, terrified eyes. He's done this to her, made her small.

Snow stands next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know if you did the right thing, but I don't think you did the wrong thing. So don't...let it eat away at you."

"I had forgotten," he begins, but he isn't sure he should continue.

"Forgotten what?" Snow prompts.

"Forgotten how much love hurts," he finishes, daring to look at her.

She smiles at him, "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

He wants to laugh at that, but he thinks that, perhaps, laughing would lead to crying. There's no time for that now.

"I should go," he says, turning toward the door.

"I think it would be better if you stayed," Snow says. "She'll want you around."

"I do not think--"

"Besides, a little extra firepower around the house would do us some good. We're a little low on magical protection right now," Snow says, yanking on his arm and pulling him away from the door.

David returns, and says, “She’s...the flowers have started again.”

“I’ll go sit with her,” Snow says, moving away.

“No,” Killian says suddenly. “It should be me. I’ll sit with her.” He may not be able to save her, but he can do this. He can sit, he can watch, he can do his best to comfort her, and it will be his penance.

Snow smiles at him again, and there’s always something secret hiding in her smile. Killian wonders about her, what magic she possesses.

“Of course,” she says, and he takes a deep breath, steels himself, and he goes to Emma’s side where he knows, no matter what, he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a thing! That is, again, not Remnant (I am working on that, I swear). But I was looking at [fanart for YGO](http://queenundisputed.tumblr.com/post/80665961300/madam-mischief-source) and thinking about Killian's little curse problem at the same time which spawned this little fic bunny. Obviously, there was a time limit on it so I had to write it right away (no, I don't have homework to do; why do you ask? ...). It hasn't been beta'd because my beta was asleep and again, time limit! Also the title refers to the flowers Emma spits up which are poisonous; though do not typically cause death in humans, in case you were worried about the Savior there.
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!


End file.
